


all in

by skoosiepants



Series: blurbles [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 12:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8532292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skoosiepants/pseuds/skoosiepants
Summary: for prompt: Derek wins Stiles in a game of cards.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally on tumblr for wildestranger!

Derek arches an eyebrow at the empty table in front of Scott after he calls him, a fan of cards obstructing most of his mouth—his eyes are smiling as he says, “I’ll put in Stiles.”

Stiles, who’d been tipped back in his chair on two legs—long since folded, a pencil rolled in between his nose and upper lip—flails and slams the chair back down onto the floor. “Uh… what?”

Scott just stares at Derek, a challenge, and Derek narrows his eyes on him.

“No, seriously,  _what_?” Stiles says, palms flat on the table now.  "Scotty!“

"Fine,” Derek says gruffly.

They both ignore the way Stiles throws his arms up in the air and says, “No way!”

Derek has twenty M&Ms, two pens, and his favorite pair of shoes in the pot. Scott has ten M&Ms, a paperclip and now Stiles—Derek figures that makes them even.

Scott places his cards down on the table one by one.  He says, “Two pairs of tens,” and Stiles groans, runs his hands through his hair.

“You guys are assholes,” he says.

Derek has a flush.

Scott doesn’t seem all that disappointed that he lost. He pats Stiles on the shoulder and says, “Sorry, buddy,” and Stiles makes a sound like a dying water buffalo as he buries his face in his hands.

Derek pokes him in the side with a pen. He says, “My car needs washing.”

“I’m not washing your car,” Stiles says, and then seems to think better of it—he pops his head up, grinning, hair sticking up every which way, and says, “I’m totally washing your car. I have cut-offs, there’ll be soap and bare thighs and gleaming pectoral muscles—”

Derek snorts.

“—I hope you’re ready, Hale.”

Derek is probably not ready, but he’s never telling Stiles that.


End file.
